CHAPTER XXIII.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 141, 13 February 1886, Page 6

CHAPTER XXIII.

a woman's warnin'o. Grace Campbell had been so charmed with her 'irhofehor's description of Annie Noble that she went the next day to make her acquaintance, and to call upon Miss Wftldemar. , Sho found them chatting in the most social manner in the cool, pleasant parlour into which she, herself, came like a breeze from some sylvan retreat, with her fresh, sparkling manner. " I feel almost as if you were an old friend, Miss Noble," she 3aid, when the introduction and greetings were over, "since learning that papa and Mr Noble used to be so intimately connected. lam very glad you are coming to us -I have no sister, you know, and it will be so pleasant to have a companion " Annie looked up with an amused smile ; they all treated her more like an equal, socially, than like a dependent. " You forget, Miss Campbell, that I am to be a very busy person in your household," she said. Grace laughed merrily. "You will not find our household such a remarkably industrious one, I imagine," she replied. "We are all very fond of taking life easy ; besides," she added, archly, "I am allowed to have my own way somewhat, and if I see fit to monopolise you once in a while, I do not believe any one will find fault. Now , lam going to ride for an hour or two ; won't you put on your hat and come with me ? i, ,The invitation was given in such an offhand, sincere way that Annie was only too glad to accept it, and in a few minutes was ready for the drive. It proved a long and delightful one, and when the two girls re turned they appeared already to have i formed a strong friendship,

It Grace had hoped to meet Rich she was doomed to be disappointed, although it Was about the hour for his return from the office j but something had detained him later than usual, and she was forced to bid Annie good-bye and drive away without seeing him. Rich, however, had met with quite an adventure on his return that summer evening that delayed him far beyond his usual hour. As he entered the car that was to take him up to town, he seated himeself beside a woman who had evidently been doing her marketing for the next day, for she had a large basket with her, which was well filled with a variety of vegetables and packages. She moved a little as Rich entered, to make room for him, giving him a casua glance as she did so. She wa3 dark complexioned, and sullenlooking, coarsely clad, and awkward in figure, and she gave a violent start as her eyes fell upon Rich. She covertly watched himalltheway up town and when he arose to leave the car she arose also. Seeing this, he stepped aside to allow her to pass out first with her heavy-basket ; but as sho stepped out to the ground her foot turned under her. she lost her balance and her hold upon her basket at the same time, aud both fell upon the rough pavement. Rich, always tender hearfced, sprang forward to assist her, and raised her to her | feet. "Are you hurt?", he asked, but was answered only by a groan. He helped her to the sidewalk, out of the way of crowding vehicles, where he beckoned to a boy and cold him.to gather up the basket and its contents. But the woman had evidently sprained her ankle, for she could not stand alone. "Where do you live?" Rich questioned, while he wondered whafc he should do with her. She pointed down a side street near them. " No. 12," her white lips murmured. " Can you walk if I help you, or shall I call a carriage?" She shook her head at the last clause of his query, and tried to hobble along. Rich told the boy, who hod recovered the basket, to follow them, and then supporting the suffering creature as well as he'could, turned into the street she had indicated. Fortunately it was not far to where she lived, and he assisted her to the door of her home. He would have opened it and helped her in, but she sank upon the step with a groan, and mo'ioned for him to go away. " Is there nothing more that I can do for you ?" he asked, gently, feeling a deep sympathy for her suffering. "Shall I get some one to come and help you or send for a physician ?" She shook her head deciiely, beckoend the boy to set her. basket on the step beside her, and then rapped upon the door behind her. It was opened almost instantly, and Rich, to his astonishment, found himself face to face with his enemy — John Crouch, the carpenter. The man's eyes blazed with sudden anger, and an ugly scowl contracted his brow. " Cur3e you ! what are you doing here ?" he domanded fiercely ; then noticing the evident suffering of Rich's companion, he turned to her, saying, coarsely; "Well, old woman, what's happened to you ? Got into fine company, didn't you? 'Taint often folkd in our station arc so honoured," he concluded, with an exasperating sneer. The woman's pain together with other exciting causes which were not known at that time, was more than she could bear, and she broke into nervous sobbing. "What are you whimpering about now? What's the matter any way ?" John Crouch demanded, rudely, "Go into the house and shut up." "Is she your mother?" Rich asked, flushing with indignation, at the man's brutal words. "I'm not aware that it's any of you,r business," snapped the man ; " but if you're very anxious to know, she ain't my mother. I'd be ashamed to own such a snivelling creature." ■ " But the woman is suffering, she has had a fall, and I fear has sprained her ankle, and pho needs sympathy and help," Rich said, sternly. "Something is always the matter with her," growled John Crouch ; then he turned his back square upon Rich, assisted the woman into the house, and shut the door with a bang. Rich paid the boy for bringing the basket and dismissed him, then turned to go his own way. This incident left an unpleasant impression upon him. There was something about the woman which haunted him for several days, while the brutality and hatred which the rough carpenter bad displayed towards both him and her nettled him more than he fwould have cared to have known every time he thought of it. It might have been three weeks later when, one Sunday evening, as he was returning from Mrs Campbells, whither he had been to attend Annie home from the evening service, he suddenly came upon this same woman standing upon a street corner not far from his own home. She appeared to be watching for some one. Rich was on the point of passing her, after bestowing a casual glance upon her, when she suddenly put forth her hand, and laid it upon his arm. " What is your name?" she demanded, abruptly. " Richmond Waldemar," he promptly re T turned ; and he was startled by the short derisive laugh to which she gave Vent as he said it. "But why do you ask?" he pursued, feeling an unaccountable desire to know more about the strange creature. " Oh, I merely wanted to know to whom I was indebted for assistance one day not very long ago," she replied, trying to speak indifferently. " Did you suffer very much from your fall ?" he asked, kindly. "It laid me up for about a week. What made you take all that trouble for me ?" she asked. " Because you needed help and it became my duty to aid you, as I would have aided any one in trouble." " Oh, then yo i. too, have the milk of human kindnesf in your nature, I suppose," she sneered. "I've always wondered if she'd bring you up with those high-flown notions." "Of whom are you speaking.?'' .Rich demanded. " The woman who brought you up." "What do you know of her." "Nothing." "Then what did you mean by speaking in that way? What do you know about me ?" " I know that you and John Crouch are enemies," the woman answered, evidently anxious to turn the conversation. Believing that she must know something of his early life ho meant to question her still further on the subject, but her reference to John Crouch turned his thoughts aside for a moment, and what followed made him forget ifc entirely until his opportunity was gone. " Is John Crouch your son ?" he asked, "No ; he told you he was not that day."

n— .-■— . ■■— "— -^TTIr-t— ~ «nn-«i—»tiM<— >m "True, I had forgotton. I am glad he is not." " Why are you glad ?" ' "Because no son should speak to his mother as I heard him speak to you." •'Ha! Ha! he was rather rough, but then, you see, .he has been reared differently from you, my fine gentleman, though it would have been all the same if I had been his mother, I suppose." "Did you wish anything particularly of me this evening ?" Rich asked a feeling of pity in his heart. . /tT 63^ 1 wa P- ted to tell ,you to keep out of John Crouch's way. There is bad blood in him. He hates you for some reason or other and he will make you feel it if -you don't have a care.' " What is your object in telling me of tnis ?" " It doesn't matter -what my object is." " What is this John Crouch to you ?" " My 'sister's son. A fond nephew, isn't he?" she sneered. "But for her sake I would not have him do a dark-deed." " Who are you ? What is your name ?he asked eagerly. She laughed harshly, bitterly, mockingly. "Never mind my name," the answered. " Go about your own business, young man, and don't meddle with me of mine— only heed my warning. " She turned abruptly, and walked' rapidly away. ' ■ He stood looking after her, perplexed an disturbed, believing that f<he knew mor about him than she was willing to tell. (To be Continued )